All the hugs in the world, all the candy and rainbows and unicorns and whatever else beautiful is not enough to thank you guys, you're freaking awesome. I'm gonna glomp you all one day.
To Guest: Thank you! Your review made me grin just as much :D
To Berlin: I'm flattered, thank you so much! If I did lose my fingers I think I'd charm my computer to write my thoughts right out of my head, much less trouble, too :)
To Midnight Runner: I know who you are! :D That's what I'm trying to portray exactly, I'm glad it actually shows in my story.
Also...
You see the awesome new cover for this story? This was made by Krysania. Krysania is amazing, probably my favourite person in the internet. Krysania deserves to be hugged and squeezed and showered in affection. Krysania can be found in my favourite authors list. So y'all go to Krysania's profile and show the girl some love, yeah?
Disclaimer: I don't onw Harry Potter. Never will. It's tragic, really, but I have to accept it.
The summer passed in a torturingly slow rythm, but at last, it was September 1st.
Tom was feeling catiously excited.
He didn't want to expect too much from Hogwarts, and yet, surely it would be immensely better than that parody of a home he currently lived in? Surely the people- the wizards- would be better than the petty creatures he grudgingly associated with until then?
Tom couldn't quite help being excited, but he wasn't very happy with his excitement, so he'd rather blame it on the enthusiasm radiating off of Harry, than any foolish expectations of his own.
Of course, at that moment exactly, his idiot of a friend chose to wine and get worried instead. He glanced from platform 9 to 10, not finding platform 9 and 3/4, and gulped nervously.
"Tom, where is it?" he whispered harshly. "Shit, now what, how the-"
"Oh, relax, boy scout," Tom drawled. "Shut up and observe the people. Surely there must be other wizards have to take the train."
A silence followed, both of them analyzing the actions of every person in the station.
"Through the wall?" Harry asked, voice a little hoarse.
"Precisely," Tom murmured. "Come then, let's go."
"Er, Tom...? I'm eleven, I don not care much to break my head and die just yet," Harry managed, giving an awkward laugh.
Tom sighed irritably. "The wall's most obviously charmed, you dence creature. You won't break your head."
"...Fine. Fine, but if I do, I blame you for everything."
They ran- because obviously, walking was too boring- at the wall together.
Logically, Tom knew they'd face no obcastle, but he still, but he still had to supress a flinch as they seemingly ran through the brick; and then it was over, just like that, and they were on the other side.
Magic. It was brilliant.
They got in Hogwarts Express, naturally getting a compartment for themselves.
Tom and Harry were both uncharacteristically quiet, but it was fine. Each other's presense was soothing, even in complete silence, and they were content in their musings and daydreams.
...And they both had to make a notable effort not to glare at the trolley witch when she inquired if they would like something sweet to it. Though, Tom hid his glare merely to keep up a mask of politeness; he suspected that Harry thought it was wrong of him to be mad at the woman, thus hid it.
Tom grunted. He was going to rule the world, he was not allowed to have a sweet tooth! That was all Harry's influence on him, getting him addicted to sweets when they could hardly ever have any.
The time just insisted to continue passing slowly, but eventually the train came to a stop, and the students stepped down, first years whispering excitedly, and somewhat fearfully, to each other.
Tom and Harry remained silent.
The castle was...it was magnificent, and Tom didn't just offhandedly give compliments.
The first years were put in boats to cross the loch- the Black Lake it was called, if Tom remembered correctly, and he obviously did- and went under an opening in the rocks upon which Hogwarts was built, through a curtain of ivy and finally into an underground harbour.
Seeing the Great Hall was another startle, and really, Tom had had enough of them for a day! He'd even read about the place, it was ridiculous to be so surprised, he should have been able to expect it, but it was just...
The students of the other years were already sitting on the four long tables, laughing and murmuring to each other, anticipation in the air. Countless candles were floating above them, their flickering light casting odd, beautiful shadows. The ceiling was bewitched to look like the dark grey sky outside.
Next to him, Harry made a choking noise. Tom would have made a sarcastic comment, but just then the Sorting Ceremony began, so he instead chose to whisper harshly,
"You realize, of course, that you will be sorted in Slytherin."
"What?" Harry hissed. "The house of dark wizards and stuck up, spoiled purebloods?" Huh, so Harry had studied more than he let on, to know all that. Good boy. "No, I think I'll pass. I want Gryffindor."
"Absolutely not. I'll admit that you have some of Gryffindor-ish traits, but you also have the brain to sustain them," Tom argued. "Can you honestly tell me you don't believe you have Slytherin qualities?"
"...Still don't like it."
"Well, it's not up for debate. I'm quite obviously going to be in Slytherin, it is only logical that you should be, too."
"Yeah, sure, whatever."
Harry turned away with a scowl, but the corners of hims mouth twitched in a smile when he thought Tom wasn't looking.
"Potter, Harry!"
His friend made his way to the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on his head, projecting an image of confidence that Tom could easily see through, but he knew no one else could.
Tom felt just a hint of worry for a second, but the hat was on the boy's head for just a few moments before it cried, "Slytherin!"
Harry's expression of utter surprise when the Slytherin table started clapping- even though it had done so for every other Slytherin as well- was priceless, but it was quickly controlled and turned into a not completely fake, satisfied look.
And maybe Tom felt a bit jealous for a moment.
Whether there was a connection or not, he wasn't certain- but his friend happened to carry an old pureblooded name, so Slytherin house welcomed him with open arms. Tom didn't have that; there would be no clapping at his own sorting, just an awkward silence and sullen glares.
Not that Tom cared for something so trivial as the acceptance of the student body, on itself, but they had power, influence, connections. Things that Tom would have to work from zero to gain, while they all had it served to them in silver plates. And what was even worse, he'd have to earn their good opinion first to achieve that.
It was sickening.
But he could and would do it- he would prove himself more powerful and better than every single one of them. In the end, they'd be nothing but pawns in his game.
"Riddle, Tom!"
He stepped forward decisively, covering the distance between him and the stool in a few long strides. The hat had barely even touched his head, and he could hardly remember the words it whispered to him before-
"Slytherin!"
He got up.
Nothing; the absolute lack of reaction he had predicted.
And then Harry started clapping. Loudly. Grinning goofily even though the entire student population was giving him odd looks. The Professors joined in. Then a few Slytherin first years. He fought off a smile, made his way to the Slytherin table.
It wasn't much, nothing close to it, but it was more than he had expected regardless, and it was all because of Harry. Everything seemed to have something to do with Harry nowadays.
"You utterly moronic creature," he muttered as he slipped into a chair next to his friend, his tone way warmer than he would have liked.
"Proud of it," Harry exclaimed, smirking.
Tom smirked back. "You made quite a show."
"Well, you wanted attention," his friend shrugged, smiling all too innocently. "Now people will talk. It's guaranteed."
"...You do realize you just lost whatever good image our classmates had created of you?"
"Oh, no matter, I'll win them back with my disarming personality."
Tom had to laugh at that, and the res of the Welcoming Feast passed in much better atmosphere than he could have anticipated.
Because there was Harry.
A prefect led them to the dungeons, where apparently the Common Room was- Harry only just managed to hold back from snickering at the pureblood-ish password, the idiot.
The Common Room was lit by a greenish light, presumably due to being under the lake. It was furnitured with black and dark green leather sofas, low backed and botton-tuffed, as well as dark wood cupboards. Skulls and tapestries decorated it.
Tom felt oddly at peace there.
Nothing needed to be done that night; their belongings were already placed near their beds, introductions were not necessary because the rest of the first years seemed to know each other already, and no one seemed incline to get to know to Harry and Tom.
Well, some boy called Nott did make an attempt to engage Harry in polite small talk, but the latter was half-asleep in an armchair, his one-worded replies not encouraging the continuation of the conversation.
Idiot.
Still, it was actually tolerable. There were not too many pointed comments on his blood status, or Harry's clapping thing (and apalling manners). When there were, Tom just returned them with very bright, very dangerous smiles.
He was surprisingly satisfied with how the whole thing had gone, he realized hours later, as he lay awake in his bed, gazing at the ceiling.
Potions was their first class, and Tom immediately came to dislike the fat, pompous man he was supposed to call his Professor.
However, he had to grudgingly admit the disgusting man could prove more than a bit useful, and so put on an extra charming act will he proceeded to brew the required potion flawlessly. By the end of the lesson, the Slug was gushing over him like a little girl over a new doll.
Well, him and various other students. Him for his undeniable talent in potions, the rest of them for their relations and connections with powerful people. The rest of the selected few were not happy with his presense among them, but Tom couldn't care less; they'd learn their rightful place soon enough.
Harry didn't make it in those few, if only because Tom's act and the Slug's reaction to it had his snickering into his cauldron instead of focusing.
He had better fix that soon- Tom had a nasty suspision there would be out of class meetings, and he refused to spend time in such dull company without Harry suffering along with him.
Transfiguration was next, and Tom was apalled to see that Dumbledore was the teacher. Harry rudely and unnecessarily elbowed him and murmured to play nice.
Tom had to admit, little as he liked it, that the man wasn't a completely hopeless teacher, but he stood firm by his belief that he was a manipulative bastard, and didn't want him near either himself or Harry.
Charms were all right, a bit noisy, but at least he could freely amuse himself by talking to Harry since there was constantly too much chatter for them to be overheard.
History of Magic and its ghost teacher, for all the Tom was curious at the subject itself, were dreadfully dull, but Tom vowed to get pens that wrote on their own for himself and Harry next time they visited Diagon Alley, so he could muse about far more important matters during that class.
Astrononmy was...well, it was intriguing, he'd admit that much. He found it interesting that he and his classmates could see and observe stars that had technically died ages ago, and only their light remained.
Herbology...he didn't much care for flowers or plants in general, but to know how dangerous the combinations of some in potions could be, as well as to be introduced to a few magical plans, very dangerous on their own, was enough to spike his interest in the class.
Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite the completely prejudiced name, was definitely his favourite class, even if he didn't think much of the teacher, Professor Merrythought, and the things they were taught were way too basic.
Generally, he supposed the classes were tolerable- they just weren't anywhere near his level. But nothing and no one was.
...Except maybe for the boy currently sitting next to him in the library, huffing in irritation.
"I hate Potions," Harry exclaimed. "I bloody well hate them."
Tom smiled slyly. "Well, they require focus, and we both know you have the attention span of a goldfish. No wonder you're hopeless at them."
"I'm not hopeless! I just...uh," Harry sighed. "Do my homework? Please? I'll sell you my soul?"
Tom raised an eyebrow. "How about I teach you Potions instead? So you won't need me to do your homework every time...I quite like the soul idea, though."
"My sould for a bunch of Potions lessons," Harry laughed. "Sure. Sounds fair, I'm not being cheated at all."
"Oh, please, you would exchange it for a one time homework. I'm doing you a favour."
"...Tom, you absolute creep, you realize we're joking, right?"
Tom gave a mocking sniff. "But why? I like the idea so much! It's not a bad deal, you know you can't go on every day just praying that your potion won't explode into your face this time."
"You'll teach me anyway," Harry stated, matter-of-factly. "Besides, wizards can't steal people's souls."
Tom shrugged.
It still was an enchanting idea.
And...they arrived at Hogwarts! Dramatic drumroll!
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